


Overwhelmed

by summerofspock



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Comfort No Hurt, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Aziraphale (Good Omens), like so stupid soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: The first time Crowley had touched his bare skin was over a game of Go.Their fingers had brushed and Aziraphale had yanked his hand back, astounded by a sensation that could have only been equated to sparks. Crowley had frowned at him. And never touched him again.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 97
Kudos: 1173
Collections: Hot Omens





	Overwhelmed

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think this is my usual fare but given the state of the world i wanted to write something soft and comforting and so here we are
> 
> enjoy!

Crowley kissed him for the first time on the doorstep to his bookshop after the end of the world.

It would have been romantic if Aziraphale hadn't shoved him away and clamped a hand over his own mouth like his lips might fly clean off if he didn't hold them down.

That could've been alright too but then Aziraphale had made the fatal mistake of rushing into the bookshop and slamming the door shut. He'd only gotten a glimpse of Crowley's stricken face, mouth hanging open slightly. Pained.

Aziraphale's heart was racing and he couldn't stop it. His lips burned and tingled and he could still taste Crowley. Like cinder and the lemon cake they had shared at the Ritz.

Aziraphale's hands shook as he touched a finger to his mouth. It didn't stop the strange sensation. He collapsed in his desk chair and tried to breathe, tried to come back to himself but the fluttering in his body wouldn't stop.

He closed his eyes so the world would stop spinning, so he could get his bearings. He felt as if he was a sailor trying to man a boat in the middle of a storm.

When he could finally breathe again, he had the presence of mind to realize Crowley had kissed him.

Crowley had kissed him and Aziraphale had shut the door in his face.

Aziraphale had wanted Crowley to kiss him for quite some time. He wasn't sure when it started but he knew for certain the first time he actively thought about it was when Crowley pressed the bag of prophecies into his hand and ambled off. He'd been thinking about it periodically ever since. But it had been nonsensical. Practically impossible.

He thought Crowley might want to kiss him as well but no matter how many boundaries Crowley pushed, there were some he respected. And this seemed to be one of them.

Until now.

It should have been amazing, the swelling of a violin, an explosion of fireworks. It was love and this was how Aziraphale wanted to express it.

It was only that touching was so very new. Angels didn't touch. It was an unspoken rule in Heaven. 

Though Aziraphale knew from experience that touching a human on the skin would not incinerate them with divine grace, that was the word they peddled in heaven. He had bumped into a large number of humans in his six thousand millennia and nary a one had combusted. 

But it wasn't just the humans. Angels did not touch each other. It was unnecessary, unclean.

The first time Aziraphale had been touched it had been by Adam in the Garden, thanking him for the sword. It had surprised him. Skin was so hot. He had thought about the touch for days and the memory was still burned into his mind.

The first time Crowley had touched his bare skin was over a game of Go

Their fingers had brushed and Aziraphale had yanked his hand back, astounded by a sensation that could have only been equated to sparks. Crowley had frowned at him. And never touched him again.

Yes, they bumped clothed elbows and occasionally knees, but even those touches sent Aziraphale spiraling, skin crying out for more warmth, more weight, more everything. And when he had finally gotten more, it had promptly felt like too much.

* * *

"Morning angel, how’s tricks?" Crowley asked a few days later, sauntering into the bookshop, his strange runway walk threatening to knock over stacks of books at every turn. 

"Cro-Crowley," Aziraphale stammered, dropping the book in his hand

He had honestly not expected to see Crowley for quite a while. The demon had a habit of scampering and hiding when awkward things happened between them and yet here he was on a Tuesday like nothing had happened at all.

Crowley inspected his shiny black fingernails. "Find anything exciting to wile away the time?" he asked easily, dropping into one of the chairs Aziraphale had scattered about.

"Erm," Aziraphale said intelligently.

"I've been thinking about starting up a business. developing those app things. Truly diabolical stuff out there. Did you know--"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said more firmly, stomping his foot.

Crowley swung his head to look at him, a dismissive sneer descending on his face. "Yes?"

"You kissed me."

The sneer grew, lips curling, showing teeth. "And?"

"And I liked it," Aziraphale said, growing truly upset. 

"Right. Just like you like rainy days and customers. Biggest fan you are."

"That's not fair."

"Not fair? You shut the door in my face."

"I was scared!" Aziraphale practically shouted and Crowley froze. "It's a bit...it's a bit much. It's not like there's loads of kissing in heaven. I hadn't done it before."

Crowley stared.

Aziraphale fidgeted.

"So you liked it?" Crowley asked tentatively.

"I did."

"You want to do it again."

"I do."

Crowley rolled out of his seat, pouring himself to his feet and sauntering over to the till. "Really?"

"Yes," Aziraphale said even though his voice wavered. He wanted to do so much more than kiss.

He wanted to undress Crowley. Feel every part of his body. He wanted to be kissed everywhere.

"Alright then," Crowley said quietly and then he closed the distance between them and kissed Aziraphale softly. More softly than Aziraphale ever dreamed was possible with Crowley.

Aziraphale's head buzzed. His nerves grew tight. His mind screamed for him to get away. He held fast.

Crowley pulled away first, frowning. "You like that?"

Aziraphale bit his lip so he wouldn't sob and just nodded.

"Why are you kissing me like I’m your nan or something?"

Aziraphale tried to breathe in between his thundering heartbeats. He needed to sit down.

A chair appeared behind him and he collapsed into it, dropping his head between his knees as he sucked in air.

"Angel, what--" Crowley dropped down beside him and placed a hand on his knee. His palm was so warm, so tender. Aziraphale stared at it. 

That was alright. Good actually. Very good. 

"It's just"-- he took a huge gulp of air-- "the kissing is"-- breathe -- "too much."

Crowley scrunched up his nose. "You don't like it then?"

"No," Aziraphale rushed to say, covering Crowley's hand with his and then snatching it back at the intensity of the tingling in his palm. "I--"

Crowley retreated entirely, standing and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's fine, angel. I'm not - I don't expect anything. We’re friends, yeah?"

The situation was spiraling. Crowley had to know--he needed to know.

"I love you!" Aziraphale said, surging to his feet.

Crowley froze. He swiveled on his heel like a marionette, head cocking to the side. "What?"

"I love you. I'm in love with you. I want you to kiss me. I just don't - the kissing. It's very overwhelming."

Crowley slinked back over to him. "In love with me?"

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded.

"But no kissing?"

"Not  _ no  _ kissing," Aziraphale insisted, stomach fluttering. "We just might - we may need to work up to it?"

"What about hugs?" Crowley asked, drawing closer. Aziraphale could feel his heat, summer sun and hellfire.

"I - that might be right."

Then Crowley's arms were slithering around his sides, pulling him close until their bodies were touching, chests pressed together. The tension in Crowley's body released even as heat and sensation poured over Aziraphale. It was so much. He inhaled and brought his arms around Crowley's back.

Crowley smelled of smoke and burnt sugar and Aziraphale thought his heart might burst from the reality of being able to hold him.

There was a high pitched sound, a sort of whistling and Aziraphale realized he was making it. A distressed keening poured from his throat that had Crowley pulling away.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale swiped at his eyes. He was crying. Like a fool. 

"Was that bad too?" Crowley asked, voice small.

"No," Aziraphale rushed to say. "I'll get used to it."

Crowley frowned, a deep upside down U. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale fidgeted. First with his hands, then with his pocket watch. “Perhaps we could...sit down?”

And Aziraphale tried to explain. Tried to make sense of how overwhelming it all was. It felt impossible.

Crowley nodded and humphed and frowned and by the end of it, he was leaning forward, elbows on his knees. And when Aziraphale stammered out an apology for being slow and tedious, a fierce look stole over his face.

“None of that,” he snapped. “I’ve wanted you for an absurdly long time and the fact that you even - no. This is whatever you want it to be.”

Aziraphale tried to force out another apology. He knew it was ridiculous. Perhaps if they pushed through it they could manage.

“I’ll wait. Sod the rest,” Crowley said. “There’s no lower limit on the way I want to be with you." 

Crowley held out his hand, palm up, and waited for Aziraphale to take it. His eyes were earnest, brassy in the evening light. Aziraphale swallowed and took his hand. It felt good.

* * *

Adjusting to kissing didn't take very long.

Crowley would walk into the shop and say, "Kiss alright?"

Azirahale would nod and Crowley would give him a soft kiss before withdrawing, just enough that Aziraphale felt a delicious tingle but not enough to overwhelm.

They would go to dinner and Crowley would drop him back at the bookshop, arch a brow and say, "Goodnight kiss?"

Aziraphale would lean in for that and those kisses usually lasted a little longer, brush of closed lips, an exchange of breath, a pressing in for a second kiss.

He felt dizzy after those every single time. But Crowley never pressed. A kiss and then he left. And even though Aziraphale always said yes, Crowley always asked.

It was holding hands that was really trying. It felt like touching a live wire, constant static at the back of Aziraphale’s mind. It somehow made him feel like he wanted to lay down for a bit.

Regardless, Aziraphale pushed through.

He took Crowley’s hand when they walked through St. James to look at the changing leaves and feed the ducks. He held Crowley’s hand when they went to his favorite cafe. When they walked back from dinner. And eventually the static was just warmth.

In fact it was more than that.

Aziraphale had always appreciated Crowley...aesthetically. It was difficult not to. From the beginning, he’d noticed the way robes draped over his thin chest, then doublets emphasizing his hips, hose the length of his legs. Aziraphale had liked the languid way he moved. He liked his slightly bent nose, his sharp crooked teeth. Aziraphale’s physical awareness of Crowley had only mounted through the years but now it was sharp edged and needy and Aziraphale couldn’t  _ do _ anything about it.

Crowley sitting across from him in the back of the bookshop, getting pissed, laughing and tossing his head back and Aziraphale desperately wanting to bury his face in that throat. Crowley inspecting his books, drawing attention to the wide breadth of his knuckles and Aziraphale wanted to kiss each one.

And then it was Crowley inviting him over to his flat, sitting on the other edge of the sofa as they watched some sort of film and all Aziraphale could think of was the several feet between their thighs. He wanted to reach out and touch but he was terrified.

Crowley paused the television and slowly turned to look at him.

“You alright?” he asked, voice pitched enough to be careless but Aziraphale knew better.

He shifted in his seat and looked at his hands. “Alright is rather relative…”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t do that,” Crowley said, drawing up his legs to sit tailor style and face him. “What’s going on in that angel head? You’re all...shifty.”

Aziraphale swallowed. He wished he didn’t have to ask for things he wanted. It was embarrassing and difficult.

“I was thinking - well, hoping that I could...hold you,” he managed to eke out after several false starts. 

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say anything. “Do you have a configuration in mind or…”

“I rather thought that you were the expert,” Aziraphale said, feeling a bit better now that Crowley was humoring him. He supposed he’d been rather afraid that Crowley would tease him or say something snarky but no. In all the ways that counted, Crowley could be rather...sweet.

“Alright then,” Crowley said, taking off his glasses. His eyes flashed chartreuse under the blue glow of the television screen and then he was drawing closer. Their arms brushed, warm and soft and thrilling. With the clothes separating their skin, it only felt good. Nothing painful or overwhelming. Simply good.

Then Crowley’s arm was snaking around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. Aziraphale’s heart was pounding. Crowley had to be able to feel it.

“Think you can relax?” Crowley said quietly, breath fluffing Aziraphale’s hair and making him shiver.

Aziraphale made a noise that was most definitely a squeak but he did his best to comply as Crowley’s hand rubbed a soothing rhythm into his arm. “There you go, love.”

He snapped his fingers and the film started playing again. Aziraphale could hardly pay attention to it, so distracted was he by the small circles Crowley was drawing into his shirtsleeve. Every cell in his body was reaching out for more, his heart clamoring for something unnameable. So he pressed in closer and Crowley’s arm tightened around him.

It still wasn’t enough, a steady sparking in his gut driving him to pull away. Crowley frowned. “Too much?”

Aziraphale shook his head, gathered his fortitude, and said, “I’d like very much to kiss you.”

Crowley’s eyebrows drew together, concern and surprise etched into his forehead. “Yeah. Of course. Anytime.”

So, for the first time, Aziraphale kissed Crowley. It relieved some of the terrible pressure inside Aziraphale’s chest, giving way to an easy warmth that spread throughout his whole body. Crawling up onto the couch, Aziraphale pressed into Crowley just as he slipped his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth. The sensation was like a punch to the solar plexus. If a punch to the solar plexus could feel good.

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat that Aziraphale wanted to hear again. His hands came up around Aziraphale’s cardigan and rested on his lower back, hot through the knitted fabric. Still not enough. 

Crowley, in a fit of inspiration or telepathy or something brilliant, pushed Aziraphale back along the length of the couch, settling between his legs until their whole bodies were aligned. The heat in Aziraphale’s chest surged south and he realized very suddenly that he was hard. Crowley was too if the pressure against his belly was anything to go by. 

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” Crowley said when he pulled back. His mouth was red from kissing and it made Aziraphale want more. “Can I kiss your neck? I’ve wanted to for ages.”

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded. 

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Crowley murmured and then kisses, hot burning kisses were trailing over his jaw and down his neck. The muscles in his back locked as goosebumps trailed over his skin. 

Without intending it, his hips rocked up into Crowley’s, seeking friction. He hissed at the wave of sensation that rolled over him. A keen pleasure like nothing he’d ever felt before. 

Crowley pressed his hips down in response and then pulled back, rising up on his arms and pulling his hips away. “Shit, sorry,” he said, face turning red. His hair was a crimson flop on his forehead, eyes shaded. The movie was still playing in the background but Aziraphale couldn’t hear it.

“Don’t apologize,” Aziraphale said, grasping Crowley’s hips and feeling that same wild buzzing. “It was good.”

He pressed them back together until Crowley was rocking into him, gasping against his throat. Aziraphale felt as if he were drowning in new sensations, each push and pull of their bodies setting off undiscovered nerve endings. Crowley was kissing him and his body was sun warm and there was heat between his legs and then his back arched as something snapped--a cascade of sensation behind his eyes, his mind sharply blank. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley said against his neck as he stopped moving. 

"Oh my goodness," Aziraphale breathed. There was a hot stickiness making itself known in his trousers and Crowley was still hard against his belly. "That was…"

"Gorgeous. Amazing. Wonderful," Crowley said, pulling back. Aziraphale wished he wouldn't. He'd finally grown accustomed to his weight. To the sensation through his clothes.

"What about you?" Aziraphale asked, struggling to sit up. He banished the mess in his trousers with a small miracle and was immediately more comfortable.

"What about me?" Crowley asked, confused. 

"You didn't get off," Aziraphale pointed out, beginning to feel a bit glum about the whole thing. Crowley was being so kind and Aziraphale had just…

"S'not really important," Crowley said with a shrug. "It's not as if I’m not used to dealing with erections around you."

That proclamation had Aziraphale turning pink in new ways. That Crowley was so patient after years of waiting meant more than Aziraphale could say. "Let me try. With my hand," Aziraphale offered, scooting closer and laying his hand on Crowley's zip.

Crowley grabbed his arm. "You sure? You don't have to. My own hand works just fine for me."

"Yes, I'm certain," Aziraphale said, feeling a bit put out that Crowley was coddling him. Then he remembered he had a panic attack the first time they kissed. Perhaps Crowley was right to be concerned.

"You may have to explain it to me...I've never…"

"Not like I've done it either, angel," Crowley said, guiding Aziraphale’s hand to his buttons which came undone easily. "Unless you count doing it with myself.”

Aziraphale ran his palm over the hard length in Crowley's briefs. It was hot and strange and even though Aziraphale's heart was going too fast, he wanted to feel more.

"Can I--"

"Fuck, yeah, just...stop if you need," Crowley ground out, hips twitching under Aziraphale's delicate touches. It couldn't possibly be that stimulating and yet Crowley was already gasping. "I've thought about this. Too much. Your hands. Fuck, your hands."

Aziraphale pulled Crowley's prick out, the soft skin so different than how hard it felt. 

Aziraphale had masturbated once about 200 years ago and was too flustered by the ordeal to do it again. He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate now but he was thankful the buzzing he always felt in his palm when he touched Crowley was only a quiet hum.

"Do you like this?" Aziraphale.asked.as he began to move his hand. It didn't feel right to slide his hand so tightly over dry skin so he miracled it slick and then the Crowley head slammed against the back of the couch.

"Angel, fuck, oh, that's good," Crowley said, joining Aziraphale's hand where it was moving over his cock.

Aziraphale leaned closer and rested his head on Crowley's shoulder as he watched the movements of their hands. He felt the hot pulse of Crowley coming before it happened. Then Crowley was spilling over their fingers as he groaned.

His chest was heaving as he gasped, "Would a kiss be alright?"

Aziraphale's heart skipped a beat as he leaned in for the kiss. Soft.

"I love you," he said quietly, a whisper against Crowley's mouth.

Crowley tipped their foreheads together. "I love you too."

* * *

Things escalated from there.

They quickly discovered that clothes on meant Crowley could touch him even if he still got overwhelmed on occasion.

Alternatively, everything about Crowley was on the menu.

Aziraphale learned how sensitive his nipples were. That he was ticklish in the under arm. That he liked his hips kissed.

Aziraphale learned that he liked sucking Crowley off more than he liked using his hand. More than anything he liked when Crowley laid down with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, Aziraphale reading quietly into the early hours of the morning. Sometimes Crowley would drift off and he just looked so serene in Aziraphale’s lap. All the angry lines of his face disappeared and Aziraphale could trace the lovely wrinkles around his eyes, the shadows of the dimples in his cheeks, the slope of his beloved nose.

Aziraphale was ridiculously in love and had been for a very long time.

He simply wished it was easier to let Crowley touch him. 

He knew it affected Crowley too, hands sneaking under his waistcoat and then a murmured apology. Hand cupping the back of his nape and warm fingers dipping beneath his collar before retreating hurriedly. 

Two months after the shift in their relationship, snow was sifting down outside the windows and they were -- there was no other word for it -- snogging on the couch in the little back corner of the bookshop. Crowley’s hands were on his hips, his wide palms hot even through the material of Aziraphale’s waistcoat as Aziraphale bracketed his legs with knees, settled in his lap. He couldn’t get enough. Would he ever get his fill of Crowley? He doubted it. Not when Crowley made such lovely noises. Not when he held Aziraphale so tightly.

Crowley pulled back, surprising Aziraphale. “Could I -”

Crowley looked so lovely, color high on his shark cheekbones, lips shining from kissing. Aziraphale’s stomach swooped at the sight. 

“What is it, love?” Aziraphale asked, fiddling with Crowley’s buttons and thinking about taking off his shirt.

Crowley swallowed visibly. “Could I take off your bowtie?”

Aziraphale started, hands dropping away from Crowley’s chest. “I -- why, yes. I suppose we have to start somewhere.”

Crowley frowned. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I believe a little discomfort might be required,” Aziraphale said, voice wavering only a little as he reached up and undid his bowtie. Crowley’s fingers brushed his shoulder as he tugged one end of it, the scrap of fabric slipping from under his collar before Crowley tossed it away. Aziraphale undid his top button and then, with a deep breath, opened a second. Crowley stared at him as if he were some sort of miracle.

Crowley’s hand drifted to the triangle of skin now exposed and hovered a centimeter away. “Can I?”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley’s hand carefully cupped his throat, thumb rubbing over the dip of his collarbone beneath his adam’s apple. 

He gasped at the drag of skin on this untouched part of his body. For the first time since they started this, the overwhelming feeling was...good.

“Alright?” Crowley asked, not looking away from the place he was touching.

“Take off my shirt,” Aziraphale said, all in a rush, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

Crowley blinked and began, “Are you sure? I don’t -”

“Yes, I’m bloody sure,” Aziraphale snapped, struggling with his own buttons. Crowley knocked his hands away. 

“If you’re getting undressed for the first time, I’m doing it,” Crowley said, hands an unsteady counterpoint to the surety in his voice.

Then Crowley was shoving off his waistcoat and Aziraphale’s shirt was open, leaving only his cotton undershirt to protect him from the world. Crowley whined low in his throat and ran his hand over Aziraphale’s belly, making him shiver. 

“I can’t believe -” Crowley broke off and swallowed hard.

Aziraphale felt fairly choked up himself so he shucked off his shirtsleeves just as Crowley tugged his shirt out of his waistband and up over his head. 

Hands were on his bare sides, warm and familiar and Aziraphale shuddered. It tickled.

“You are…” Crowley breathed, eyes wide and shining. “I’ve thought about this so much. You have no idea. One time. One time I saw you in the baths in Rome. I thought about it for decades. Your chest is -- I wanted to hold you.”

Heart racing and skin tingling, Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s wrists and moved his hands to his chest. Crowley laughed in something like disbelief and began to trace shapes into his skin with the pads of his fingers. “I’ve wanted to make love to you for centuries. These last few months...It’s been more than--”

Crowley broke off with a choked sound and Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him. “I know, darling. I feel much the same.”

With a shuddering inhale, Crowley splayed his fingers wide on Aziraphale’s back and urged him to move, laying him down on his back so Crowley could settle between his legs. He kissed Aziraphale’s collarbone. Sparks shot over his skin. Crowley kissed his sternum. Flames. 

Hands were kneading the soft flesh of his chest as a hot mouth seared a path over his belly. Aziraphale, even in all his time in Heaven, had never felt so loved.

“Do you have a bed upstairs, love?” Crowley asked, looking up at Aziraphale and resting his chin on his hip. His hair was falling over his forehead and Aziraphale loved him.

Aziraphale snapped them into his rarely used bedroom and Crowley laughed at the sudden change of scenery before focusing on him once more.

Aziraphale lost his focus entirely, caught between overwhelming sensation and pleasure as Crowley kissed parts of his body that had never been touched before. He felt brave and loved and happier than he had ever been.

When Crowley took his cock into his mouth, Aziraphale was certain he would combust, but no. It was only pleasure. A pleasure so acute that Aziraphale’s skin felt too tight, his body aching.

His orgasm was shocking. More intense than when he’d come in his trousers on a few occasions. Crowley hummed happily as Aziraphale spent into his mouth, sucking him down eagerly until Aziraphale was whining. He was already overstimulated.

After it was done, Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s stomach and said, “I’ve dreamed of that. Never thought I’d be able to.”

Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley’s hair, the strands tickling his palm.

“I was fine being friends,” Crowley said quietly. “But I’m glad--” His voice broke. “I’m glad you wanted this too.”

Aziraphale’s eyes prickled. “Of course I do. I’m sorry I’ve been so slow.”

Crowley sat up and scowled. “None of that. We’re here. We’re safe. And we’re together. Best thing I can think of.”

Not liking how far away Crowley was, Aziraphale tugged him back down so that he could hold him close.

It was overwhelming.

But Aziraphale liked it anyway.


End file.
